


Pure and Clean

by Meridians_of_Madness



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), BDSM, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crying, Fingering, Good Omens Kink Meme, M/M, Pussy Spanking, Scolding, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Verbal Humiliation, mouth soaping, roleplaying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:46:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21984637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meridians_of_Madness/pseuds/Meridians_of_Madness
Summary: Aziraphale manages to say a dirty word, and Crowley provides some made-to-order consequences.-Filled for the kink meme prompt locatedhere.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 351





	Pure and Clean

The funny thing, Crowley thought, was how very hard Aziraphale had to work up to it. All that Saturday, he could see Aziraphale out of the corner of his eye or over the top of his paper, lurking around corners, usually just behind Crowley and to one side. It was fucking adorable, and more than once, Crowley had to stifle a snicker at Aziraphale opening his mouth and then closing it again.

It was almost evening, the light in the bookstore going dim and soft, and Crowley was just beginning to wonder if he ought to give the angel a very specific kind of hand with his dilemma when there was a crash.

Crowley jumped, rising from his chair by the fire just in time to hear a startled but unmistakable voice from the kitchen.

“Oh _fuck...!”_

 _Oh, perfect brave little angel,_ Crowley thought with delight, and then he wiped the smile off his face before striding to the small kitchen at the back of the shop.

Aziraphale was knelt down, picking up the pieces of a broken saucer, and he rose hastily when Crowley appeared in the doorway.

“Oh! Crowley, there you are, I was-”

“Toss those in the bin, and then give me your hands.”

“Crowley...”

“ _Now,_ angel.”

Aziraphale flinched, and Crowley didn't miss the blush high on his cheeks or the way he wet his lips as he dropped his gaze. The saucer pieces went into the bin with an almost musical clink, and then Aziraphale was approaching him, eyes still downcast. He offered Crowley his hands, and Crowley inspected them carefully one after the other, looking for any stray shards of porcelain or cuts. There were none, and he nodded, letting the angel's hands drop.

“All right,” he said. “No cuts, that's good.”

“Oh, well, that's very-”

“ _What_ did I hear you shout when you dropped that saucer?” Crowley asked, standing up to his full height and putting a little menace into his voice.

Aziraphale flinched.

“Er...”

“Honesty, angel, or it's going to go a lot worse for you.”

Aziraphale took a deep shaky breath.

“I... I swore,” he said, not lifting his eyes.

“Right. And what did I say would happen if you did?”

“That... that you would do something I didn't like,” Aziraphale whispered, and then he lifted bright, already-damp blue eyes to Crowley beseechingly.

“Oh Crowley, please, I certainly didn't mean to, and I promise, I won't do it again-!”

He gasped as Crowley took him by the arm and dragged him straight to the sink.

“Damned straight you won't,” Crowley said heartlessly, his breath already coming a little faster. “Because I _told_ you and I _told_ you, and since telling you didn't work, it's going to have to be this instead. Should have listened to me the first time.”

Aziraphale dragged back against Crowley's grasp a few times, whimpering a little. If he had really dug in his heels, Hell, if he had simply stood firm, Crowley wouldn't have been able to budge him, but he was only putting an average human's worth of effort into it. It was enough to protest, not enough to actually stop what was going on. Oh, Somebody, did Crowley love his angel.

“Stop your yowling,” Crowley snapped. “Come here. Come _here,_ angel.”

He pushed Aziraphale against the kitchen counter, facing out, and then he reached down and squeezed Azirpahale's hand twice.

_Everything all right?_

He got two squeezes back immediately: _just ducky!_

“Crowley, Crowley, _please,_ please, don't, I can't-”

“Oh stop it, you don't even know what I'm going to do yet,” Crowley said. “Open your mouth.”

In response, Aziraphale shook his head, clamping his mouth tight, and Crowley laughed.

“Oh, you are going to regret that, love.”

With a snap of his fingers, everything Aziraphale was wearing from the waist down disappeared and while the angel was still staring down in dismay, Crowley simply scooped him up and sat him on the counter. Now he was taller than Crowley, but what mattered most was that Crowley could push him back and step between his legs.

“Open your mouth, angel,” Crowley said threateningly, and Aziraphale shook his head hard.

Crowley shrugged, cupped the angel's soft cunt in his hand... and then gave it a sharp little smack.

“Oh!”

“Ha, you could open it just fine then, couldn't you?”

Aziraphale looked at him a little wild-eyed, shaking his head again, and Crowley made a mock sympathetic face before raining a series of hard slaps on Aziraphale's cunt. Aziraphale whined through his clenched teeth, and then groaned.

By the time Crowley paused, Aziraphale was panting, hands clenched by his sides, and his slit was gleaming wet and slightly swollen. It looked delicious, and Crowley had to remind himself of what game they were playing before he knelt down to taste.

“Well, angel?”

Reluctantly, Aziraphale nodded, and he opened his mouth, eyes screwed shut.

“Good angel,” Crowely said approvingly, and he reached for the fresh, brand-new bar of soap that Azirpahale had placed next to the sink that morning. It was white and waxy Crowley's hand, heavy and dense, and he grinned before shoving the end hard into Aziraphale's mouth.

Aziraphale's eyes flew open, and he made a choking sound. He would have spat it out immediately if Crowley hadn't held it in place, and he waited until the first choking sounds subsided before he let go.

“Tastes nasty, doesn't it?” he asked sympathetically. “I bet it just tastes _awful.”_

Aziraphale made a desperate heartbroken little sound, nodding pathetically, and Crowley leaned forward to put his lips next to his ear.

“You're going to want to dig your teeth in, angel,” he hissed. “If you think for one second you are going to spit it out, I'm going to make you walk just as you are out to the back and fetch me a switch. Am I understood?”

Aziraphale, eyes wide, nodded, and Crowley smiled, reaching up to pat his plump cheek.

“Good. Now we just have to take care of the little matter of your defiance earlier. Honestly, what cheek, refusing to open your mouth for me.”

Aziraphale made a choked and frantic noise, and Crowley pretended to tilt his head to hear him better.

“Oh? What's that? Did you have something to say to me? No, no I rather thought not. You're just going to sit there and take what you have coming.”

Aziraphale's chest heaved and he shook all over, but he wasn't crying, not yet. Crowley nodded.

“Come on, angel, Legs open. You know how bad little angels take it in this household.”

Azirpahale slid his legs wider, and Crowley reached down to run a finger through the little pool of moisture he had left on the tile, bringing it to his lips to taste.

“What nonsense, getting all aroused from something like this,” Crowley said, ignoring the way his own erection was tenting his jeans.

He landed another two smacks on Aziraphale's plump, wet cunt, and then he took the angel by the hips, dragging him back so that his legs dangled lower and he was slumped on the counter, but it opened his legs up beautifully, putting his cunt in just the right position for Crowley's hand.

Crowley glanced up to see that the angel's chin and the front of his shirt were soaked and that this eyes were red and wet. The bar of soap was an insult to his pretty lips, and there were little flecks of foam at the corners of his mouth. That soap had to taste terrible, but the angel was hanging on to it like grim death. Good, he would have to in light of what came next.

Crowley's hand came down on Aziraphale's cunt, harder than it had before, and this time, he didn't stop with one blow, or two, or three. He kept up a steady, almost metronome beat, pausing only to spread Azirpahale's thighs wider or to reach up and to tap the bar of soap, pushing it in a little deeper.

In the space of a few minutes, Azirpahale's eyes were squeezed tight, his face was red, and the sounds he was making were high-pitched and pained.

“Oh, just _look_ at you,” Crowley said with relish. “Look at you, with your poor mouth full of soap, and your little cunt just fucking soaked...”

Aziraphale groaned around the soap as Crowley pushed two fingers deep inside him, thrusting a few times more for humiliation's sake than for pleasure. It was a good demonstration of how wet and soft Aziraphale had grown, and Crowley growled a little to think about how the angel might have been like this all day, slightly soaked from imagining what was coming.

“Silly little thing,” Crowley hissed, “Well, we're going to teach you a lesson, aren't we?”

More smacks, harder this time, and Crowley's palm was beginning to sting from it. He was just wondering if he should reach for that wooden spoon, really make a mark, when Aziraphale uttered a defeated cry and simply started to sob.

“Oh, _there_ we are, that's a love, there we go...”

He reached for the bar of soap, tugging slightly to make Aziraphale let go. When he pulled it out, it was slippery and wet and he could see how hard Aziraphale had dug his teeth into it The moment the bar was out, Aziraphale bent over the sink, retching helplessly, as Crowley stroked his hair, kept a comforting arm over his shoulders.

“There we are, that's right, get it all out.”

Either he or Aziraphale could have whisked all of it, the sting between Aziraphale's legs, the sickening taste in his mouth, what looked like a gallon of saliva spilled down his chest, away in a heartbeat, but they didn't. Aziraphale had tried to explain it to him once, that this mess was a part of it, and Crowley had said he didn't need to understand, he just needed to know what to do.

“Be there,” Aziraphale had said after a moment of thought. “Hold me. Pet me. Spoil me a little...”

Crowley handed Aziraphale a glass of cold water, holding him tight from behind as he swished the water in his mouth and spit. He rinsed out his mouth a few times, getting more calm with each repeat, and finally he straightened, still red, slightly damp but more in control of himself.

“How're we doing?” asked Crowley, and Aziraphale gave him a slight smile.

“Sore and stinging between the legs. My mouth feels slightly disgusting, but that's all right. Over all, very, very good.”

Hesitantly, Crowley laid his hand on Aziraphale's chest, over his heart.

“And... here?”

Aziraphale's eyes, still red from tears, softened immeasurably, and he reached for Crowley, drawing him into his arms.

“Oh, darling. Complete. Sound. Utterly in love with you.”

Crowley sighed, hugging the angel in return.

“Good,” he said, and then he looked down with amusement.

“You're rutting against my leg,” he pointed out, and Aziraphale looked up at him, his gaze utterly limpid and melting.

“I am,” Aziraphale said. “You don't think I was _just_ after some humiliation and pain, did you?”

“Greedy, greedy angel,” Crowley chuckled. “All right. Let's go up to bed, and we'll find out exactly what you need after getting your filthy mouth washed out and your naughty little cunt smacked...”


End file.
